


Mamae

by angelontheoutskirts



Series: Queen Erica [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Alistair - Freeform, F/M, Fiona loves her son, Gen, King Alistair, Parenthood, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelontheoutskirts/pseuds/angelontheoutskirts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fiona hoped if her son didn't know about her, his life would be easier. Nothing would make it easier for her though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mamae

The sound of an infant’s wails stirred Fiona from a deep slumber. Her eyes snapped open as she sat up, hands immediately going for the basinet at her bedside. Her son continued to cry even as she lifted him from his bed, cradling him against her breast.   
“Shh…Shh Alistair…” she hushed, lowering her nightdress to feed him. The tears stopped as his tiny mouth found a nipple to suckle. Adjusting her hold on him Fiona leaned back against the headboard looking down at her baby. His eyes were the blue of his father’s, the same as any infant, but she had a feeling they would darken later. Already a tuft of blond hair was sprouting from his head and she stroked it softly as he nursed. “One would think you were a Warden.” She teased, chuckling softly. He pulled back, apparently full, and blinked up at her with awe filled eyes. She tapped a finger against his nose, so much like Maric’s, making him giggle and reach for her finger. She let him catch it, marveling at how his tiny fist wrapped around the digit. He would fall asleep holding it, she knew, and didn’t object choosing instead to treasures these moments knowing they’d be over soon. She couldn’t raise him, and only hoped Maric would find someone who could. Watching his tiny lashes flutter across his rosy cheeks she held him tighter and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I love you.” She whispered. 

Fiona paced back and forth in front of the dark haired man, her hand over her mouth in shock while her eyes stung with tears.   
“How could they?!” She snapped. “How could Maric let this happen…how could…?” She shook her head.   
“What could he have done Fiona?” Duncan asked her.   
“I don’t know! Something!” She threw her hands up as she flopped into the chair across from where Duncan was sitting. “But having him sent away? He’s just a boy…”   
“But he’s not a baby.” Duncan told her, taking her hand. She lifted the other one to wipe her eyes. “There is good that can come of this Fiona.”  
“They’re going to make my son a Templar Duncan! They’re going to…this isn’t the life I wanted for him I…”   
“I will watch over him Fiona. I will keep him safe, I promise.” She met his dark eyes and knew he meant every word. She nodded and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

Fiona read over Duncan’s letter again. So her son was now a Grey Warden, and was with Duncan in Denerim. Perhaps one day he could even visit. It was the best news she’d received since hearing about Maric’s disappearance. Her son, a warden, she clutched the letter to her chest. Dread then filled her. Her son was a warden, her son would get the nightmares, her son would face the Calling. How could Duncan do this? How could he conscript her baby? How could he sentence her child to such a short life? And there was a Blight coming. Her hands shook and she dropped the letter, lest she set it aflame. Had there been no choice? Was this better than the life of a Templar? She sighed. Duncan meant well, but the order needed recruits and if it had been the only way…she looked up at the ceiling.   
“Maker watch over them.” She whispered. 

When the news of Ostagar reached her she fell to her knees. Her throat constricted so that her scream of anguish was muted. Her tears were frozen, her body in too much shock to let them leave her eyes. She clutched at her chest, feeling her heart beat against her ribs in a way she was sure would shatter it. All the Fereldan wardens were gone, an entire order, completely wiped out, Duncan and her son. Her son, her baby, her Alistair, the man she had never known and never would. When the tears came, she didn’t even try to wipe them away. 

Alistair, King Alistair, her son was not dead after all. She let out a scream that must have shocked the entire circle but she didn’t care. Her son was alive. Her son was alive and was king. She hugged the messenger, making the poor boy very uncomfortable but she couldn’t help it. Alistair was alive. Her son was alive!

She met him the first time in Redcliff, and he was furious. He had every right to be, she knew he had every right to be. Still his words stung worse than if he’d struck her. He hated her, and she deserved it. He didn’t know. He never would. Despite this, despite his anger she couldn’t help but notice the amulet that hung around his neck. She couldn’t hear his words as her eyes locked on the pendent. He had it; he wore it. That was enough. 

“Grand Enchanter!” Fiona turned to face the Cousland girl, the hero of Fereldan, her daughter-in-law.   
“Your Majesty.” She curtseyed.   
“I found this letter, Alistair is your son.” Fiona felt as if her tongue had swollen and she gaped like a fish as she tried to breathe. The rest of the conversation blurred but then she was giving the queen the journal. The journal she’d confessed to. The journal that would reveal it all. 

“You are my mother.” It wasn’t a question, but Fiona nodded in confirmation.  
“Yes.” She whispered. “And I know what you must think of me.”  
“You don’t. I read your reasons. You wanted to me to have a better life.” Fiona nodded, sniffling.   
“Your father and I just wanted you to be happy. I’d hoped that if you didn’t know about me…it would be easier….”  
“Best laid plans.” He smirked, so much like Maric. She wiped her eyes and gave a small smile, looking between her son and his wife.  
“But you are happy, aren’t you?” She needed to hear it. His grin broadened and he nodded.  
“I’m happy.” He answered her. “I’m happy…Mum.” Then his arms were around her. Her baby boy cradled her against him like she had done when he was an infant. She smiled and sobbed against the fabric of his shirt and she could feel his tears against her hair. She looked up at him; meeting the eyes that matched her own and he bent down so she could kiss his forehead and stroke her fingers through his hair. When she looked down she could see her amulet hanging from his neck.


End file.
